At The Edge Of A Knife
by Leon Sage
Summary: Dean develops a brain tumour. Sam nears his breaking point every day. They need to make the biggest decision of their lives
1. Chapter 1: Sirens

**Sirens**

Dean turned away from Sam and pulled the covers off Sam's body. A cold chill hit Sam's bare chest and he was woken up by it. Shivering slightly, he turned to Dean's side and tried to pull some off the sheets to himself but was unsuccessful. He shook Dean a little and said sleepily, "Dean… come on man, you're hogging the sheets again." Dean didn't respond, so Sam, thinking that his brother was playing around, got on top of Dean and prodded him a little. "Deany… you know you love me," Sam said softly and nuzzled Dean's shoulder a little, but Dean still didn't answer, that's when Sam got worried.

He got off the bed and crouched by the edge of the bed to look at Dean closer. Sam realized that Dean was pale and there was a thin layer of sweat coating his face and neck. Slowly, he reached out and touched Dean's forehead, trying to coax Dean awake. "Dean?" Sam said slowly, touching his forehead, finding it burning hot. "Dean, wake up."

Slowly, Dean's eyes opened a little and he looked at Sam, green eyes dull and dark rings under his eyes. "S-Sammy…" he said hoarsely. "S-Sam, I think… I'm a little suh-sick," Dean said, trying to smile a little, but he couldn't even muster up strength to do that.

Sam stood up and went into their apartment's kitchen to get a glass of water and brought it back to Dean. He set the glass on the table and he put a hand under Dean's head and upper back, lifting him up at the same time. He had carried Dean's dead weight before, but it seemed like Dean was more than that right now. Sam sat down next to him and propped him up against his chest and took Dean's head in his hand, lifting it up to meet his eyes. "Dean, I need you to take some water okay?" Sam said, waiting for a response.

Dean lifted his eyes to meet Sam's and he nodded slightly, but Sam had to hold Dean's head because Dean just didn't seem to have the strength to do anything by himself. Sam lifted the glass up to Dean's lips and Dean managed to swallow a little before he coughed and spat out the water, going into a coughing fit. Sam quickly set down the water and rubbed Dean's back while he calmed down.

"Suh-sorry," Dean said, voice a little stronger, "w-went down the w-wrong way."

Sam smiled a little and took the glass, raising it again to Dean. "A little more?" he asked, "And sip this time, Dean, don't swallow."

Dean gives Sam his best attempt at a sneer. "I WAS sipping, asshat," he says, but takes a slower drink anyway.

After a while, Sam set Dean down on the bed again and wiped a damp cloth over his forehead, taking the layer of sweat away and trying to soothe him. But when Dean just got worse, Sam got up and went over to the bathroom to get some pills to help with the fever.

Sam opened the bathroom door to find Dean crumpled on the floor in a pool on vomit.

He dropped the bottle, horrified by the sight and rushed to Dean's side. He turned him over and tried to wake him, but Dean was unconscious, barely breathing.

Sam scrambled for his phone and punched in the emergency number, begging for an ambulance. The woman on the line told Sam to keep Dean's body on his side in case he throws up again, saying he could choke on his vomit and die.

Twenty minutes later, paramedics arrived in their apartment and instantly hooked Dean to an IV, taking his pressure and putting him on a gurney. One of the paramedics looked at the bed, then at Sam and said, "boyfriend?" and Sam nodded, it was half the truth anyway, right?

A few minutes later, the ambulance was zooming towards the hospital, Dean being checked over more by the paramedics and Sam next to him, holding his limp hand and staring at his brother's pale face, almost white as paper, and praying to whoever was listening.

"S-Sammy," came a voice, quiet and afraid. Sam looked up at Dean, and he saw him regaining some consciousness, but he was confused. Sam was afraid that Dean's hunter instincts might take over and he might lash out at the paramedics, so he knelt down fast by the edge of the gurney and told the paramedics to back off a little with his hand.

Dean was looking around groggily, still fighting to stay awake, but Sam could see his whole body start to tense, instinct to survive taking over slowly. Sam put a hand on Dean's hair and spoke softly to him, soothingly, "Dean, hey, Dean, it's me, it's Sammy," Sam said and Dean looked towards Sam's voice, but Sam was unsure if Dean could see him clearly. "Sam…?" Dean said, his voice almost child-like, the loss of his normal bravado breaking Sam's heart.

"Dea… I'm here. Your Sam is here," Sam said, stroking Dean's hair a little. Dean's eyes unfocused a little and Sam grabbed his hand and squeezed, but felt Dean's hand slacken. "Don't… lea…ve…" Dean whispered before going unconscious again.

Sam looked at the paramedics. "Drive. Faster."


	2. Chapter 2: Pacing

**Pacing**

Lights flashing… voices at the edge of consciousness… Sam's voice… darkness.

The doors of the hospital burst open and the paramedics rolled Dean into the emergency room, being met by two doctors and a nurse. Sam was following close behind, anxious.

They rolled Dean further into the hospital, but a nurse stops Sam. "Honey, I'm sorry, but you gotta let us take care of him right now," she says, giving Sam a kind look. She was a motherly looking woman, maybe late 50's and auburn hair slowly turning grey.

Sam started to protest, but she just shook her head and lead him away, Sam letting her herd him away, knowing he couldn't do much.

She sat him down in a waiting area and told him to hold on for a few minutes and she walked away to the nurse's station.

Thoughts raced through Sam's mind at light speed. _What happened? Dean? What caused this? Dean? why didn't I see this coming? Dean? Oh god, Dean, Dean, Dean De-_ his train of thought was cut short by a clipboard in front of him.

He looked up and saw the nurse's kind smile. "My name is Nurse Annie," she said, sitting down next to Sam, "I know this is tough for you right now, but I'm going to need you to fill these up alright sweetie?"

Sam took the clipboard and looked through the information on it, mostly asking for personal details and he looked away from the papers, looking the nurse straight in the face with a pleading look.

"Tell me he's going to be okay," Sam said, hope seeping out of him.

The nurse's smile faltered a little, but she said with a pat on his hand, "I'm sure he'll be fine."

Hours waiting. Pacing the waiting room. Coffee when he feels sleep creeping up. Pacing again. Waiting. Its maddening.

Finally, after eight hours of waiting, a doctor comes to the waiting room and Sam looks up from where he's been sitting, hands in his head.

He looks up to the doctor and the last dredges of hope fail him when he sees the doctors grave look. "Doctor…?" Sam starts, but his breath catches in his throat when the doctor motions him to sit.

As the doctor sits down next to him heavily, Sam studies the man. Lean, probably mid-fifties. Indian descent he thinks.

"My name is Dr. Raj," he says, "I'm a neurosurgeon and I've just been to see your-… Dean."

Sam thought he must have misheard.

"Neurosurgeon?" he asks, suddenly wary. "But Dean just fainted. Why are you checking him over?"

"Son," the doctor says gravelly, shoulders slumping a little, hating having to say this at all, "Dean… he," the doctor begins and sighs heavily. "There's no easy way to say this…"

"So say it," Sam says, voice level, but eyes betraying him, "tell me, please."

"Son, Dean has a brain tumor. And he may not survive surgery."


	3. Chapter 3: Screaming

**Screaming**

Silence reigns for what seems like hours. The doctor is mad. Crazy for even thinking that.

Dean is fine. He's fine. He's always fine. He can't be. No.

But Sam knows he's lying to himself. He knows that what the doctor is saying is true. Deep down, he knows.

"H-How did he get it?" Sam asks, not knowing where to start.

Dr. Raj looks at the file which he carried in and takes out something that looks like a scan to Sam. Taking it, he realized that this must be Dean's brain, an X-ray of some sort.

The doctor looked at the scan and took out a marker and circled a dark spot almost in the middle of the scan. "This is the tumor," he said, "they form from the uncontrollable growth of cells and tissue. While it may not be cancerous- we don't know yet- it can cause significant damage to Dean."

Sam looked at the scan, tears threatening him again. "What can be done?" he asked, almost a whisper.

Sensing the strength failing the boy, Dr. Raj gets up and crouches down, directly in front of Sam and quietly speaks to him. "There are one more test we have to run on Dean, son, a scan to see if the tumor is malignant, whether its cancerous. But surgery to remove the tumor is what normally happens."

"But…?" Sam asks, knowing that there is more to it.

The doctor sighs and looks down, thinking how to say this. How to break this boy's heart.

"The problem is, Dean may never be the same, Sam," he says, looking Sam square in the face.

Sam stares at the doctor. "Never be-… why?" he says, confusion taking hold of him.

"It's because the tumor is situated in a place close to the amygdala, the part that controls emotions." He stands back up and sits down on the chair again, legs finally giving out. "If there is the slightest bit of complication, Dean could lose his personality, his emotions. He could turn into a loveless person, Sam. Violent in the most extreme cases."

_Lose his personality. Violent. Loveless. Dean. _That was all Sam heard.

Suddenly standing, Sam looked ahead of him, not looking at the doctor and said, void of all emotion, "I need a minute," and walked out of the waiting room, not waiting for the doctors response.

He walked through the corridors, past the nurse's station, Nurse Annie giving him a smile, but it faltered as she saw his sightless eyes.

He walked out of the hospital, out to one of the many garden's that the hospital featured at the sides and the back of it.

He sat down on one of the benches in the cool October night, under an oak tree, branches bare and he looked up at the moon. A full moon.

And he screamed. And cried. And held on the memory of Dean's smile, realizing what he may lose.


	4. Chapter 4: Cleaning Up

**Cleaning Up**

He didn't know for how long he sat there, or when he fell asleep, but Sam woke up as the early morning rays lightened the sky. He was covered with a thick blanket and there was a rolled up sheet cradling his head.

He sat up from the park bench, silently thanking whoever put the covers over him. he would have frozen solid if not.

Slowly, he got up, still wrapped in the blanket and made his way back into the hospital. When he got to the nurse's station, he saw Nurse Annie coming out from a room in a coat and sneakers.

"Oh, you're up," she exclaimed, smiling and patting Sam's arm. "Thank goodness."

Finding his voice, Sam stuttered, "Yuh-you p-put the b-blanket on m-me?" he said, realizing he was colder than he thought he was.

"Honey, you're freezing!" she said and turned a little, putting a hand on the small of Sam's back and said softly, "come with me."

She led him to a cafeteria and made him sit down in one of the plastic chairs. Sam sat in the chair, feeling himself shiver a little. He looked up and saw Nurse Annie bringing back two steaming hot cups and when she set it down, Sam smelt the warm, sweet aroma of hot chocolate.

He took the cup in both his hands and blew it a little before tasting it.

Although it was just cafeteria chocolate, it tasted like heaven going down his throat, warming his hands and feet gradually. But nothing helped with the ice in his heart.

Not the hot chocolate, not Nurse Annie talking to him, trying to distract him.

He smiled and answered her politely, but he wasn't really there, and she could see that.

After a while, she said that she needed to go, and that he should go home and get a bag together with Dean, that he should go home and get washed up.

She left him sitting there, staring at the swirls of vapor wafting up from the liquid. Nurse Annie left, telling Sam that she would be back in the evening to see them again.

She turned to go, a sad smile playing on her lips when she heard a small whisper, "Thank you."

Sam didn't know how or why, but he found himself going home an hour later, sitting in the back seat of a cab, passing by the streets that he knew so well.

He saw some couples walking on the street hand in hand, laughing and talking. He passed by the park where he and Dean would go sometimes. He passed the bar near the apartment. And silently, tears came flowing down.

As he unlocked the door to their apartment, he stopped and looked at the door.

No one had cleaned up the mess. No one had been there to clean. He braced himself.

Going into the apartment, he looked at the mess that was there. An overturned chair, the sheets of the bed messed up, some on the floor. A broken pill bottle, tablets strewn on the floor. And dried vomit. Dean's vomit.

Sam didn't bother with any of the mess. He just stripped down and stepped into the shower.

He let the hot water run over him, washing away the icy feeling. He bowed his head and leaned it against the bathroom wall.

Tears and hot water.

He came out from the shower, and wiped himself down. Changed his clothes and sat on the bed.

Sam looked around, then looked down and sighed, closing his eyes and he pinched the bridge of his nose with his index finger and thumb.

He got up and looked around the apartment and clenched his fist.

He walked over to the windows and threw them all open. He took the dirty sheets off the bed and threw them into the washer and changed the sheets. He straightened the chairs and the bathroom. He swept up the bottle and the pills. He got to the pool of dried vomit.

Sam knelt down, looking at the stain, holding a sponge in his hand, bucket at his side.

Dean falling. Dean laying there. Dean retching. Dean looking at the bathroom door. Dean losing consciousness.

Dean.

The stain gone, the floor dotted with teardrops.

Sam curled up on the floor, sobbing.


	5. Chapter 5: Dreams

**Dreams**

Falling. Losing consciousness. Retching. …Sammy…

Sirens. Ambulance. Lights. …S-Sam…

Buzzing. Doctors. Flashing lights. Pain. …Sa-…

Bed. Lawrence. …what?

Dean sat up in his bed. He was sure he was dreaming, but he couldn't be sure.

He was in Lawrence. In their house …and Sam was next to him, sleeping.

Dean looked around at the room. Exactly how he remembered his parents room to be. The cheery cream walls, the bay windows, the softer than soft bed.

Sam roused a little and opened his hazel eyes a little. "Mmmh, Dean…?" he said sleepily, "what time is it?"

Dean looked around slowly to the clock on the bedside table, the same one he remembered. Red lights blinking. "Its uh… nine in the morning Sammy, why?" he said, looking back at Sam.

Sam's eyes widened. "NINE?" he shouted, jumped out of bed and ran out of the room in only his sweatpants.

Dean heard another door open and Sam laugh at something.

Curious, Dean got out of bed and followed Sam's voice.

A door was ajar, the nursery he remembered. He went to the door and opened it fully, and his breath was kicked right out of him.

Sam was holding a small boy and girl, laughing and carrying them around what looked like a kids bedroom. He had them, one under each arm and they had their hands on his arms, legs flailing. They were screaming with laughter and Sam was telling them what naughty little rugrats they were.

The most confusing part: they were calling him Daddy.

Dean must be mad. There was no way. But Sam looked at Dean and smiled at him, light catching in his hair, making a halo around him. he bent down, setting them both on either side of him and gave them each a kiss. "Go say good morning to daddy," he said and they ran to Dean and hugged his legs and looked up at Dean with their bright smiles and wished him good morning.

They had Sam's hazel eyes, Dean's messy dirty blonde hair, but most startling of all, they were calling Dean daddy too.

Sam sensed Dean's confusion and looked at him with an odd expression and stretched out his arms again to the kids, "Mary, John, c'mere, huh? Let's get you ready for school."

In the Impala. Familiar roads. Sam driving, Dean in the passenger seat. Kids in the back.

Sam pulls up to a colorful building, kids running around, playing on the play sets. Parents dropping kids off. Teachers greeting them.

Confusion deepens.

Sam gets out from the car and opens the back door. "Come on, squirts," he says and hauls John out of the car and sets him on his hip.

"Dean?" he says and looks through the window, "get Mary?"

Dean nods and gets out of the car and opens the back door.

And then there's Mary there, arms outstretched, dressed in a pink press and purple striped tights. Bright pink clips in her hair.

"Daddddyyyy…" she moans out, flexing her fingers and says in with a high pitched voice, sweeter than liquid sugar, "carry me!"

Dean stars and takes her up in his arms, careful not to knock her head and he sets her on his hip, mirroring Sam.

She giggles and wraps her arms around Dean's neck and kisses him. "Don't be sad, Daddy!" she says, "no monsters today!"

Dean stares at her, but Sam comes up next to Dean, with John on hip, he playing with a small model racing car. Sam kisses Mary on the forehead and laughs, "you really showed that boogieman, huh, Mary! You said 'Boo!' so loud, he got scared and ran away!"

"Yeah!" Mary shouts out and puts her arms up in the air. "I said 'Boo!' and bye bye goes the boogieman!"

Sam smiles at her and looks at Dean, smile faltering a little when he see's Dean's quiet look. Quickly covering it up, he nudges Dean and says, "let's get these munchkins to school, huh?"

Dean nods silently.

Half an hour later. In front of a mechanic's shop. Sam puts the car in park and turns to Dean.

"Okay, what's wrong Dean?" he says.

Dean looks at Sam, all the confusion he's been feeling plastered on his face. "Wh-… how… What's going on, Sam? Who's… Sam, whose kids were those?"

Sam's mouth opens a little. Surprise. Hurt. Wariness. Confusion.

"Dean… are… you okay?" Sam says tentatively, "Are you sick? …D'you think you need the hospital?"

_Hospital._

Dean shakes his head in defiance. "I'm fine, Sam. Now tell me whose kids those were and why we're taking care of them."

Sam is breathing heavily and a tear streaks down his cheek.

"Dean… they're our kids…"

Dean's mind goes blank. "Wh-what…"

"Six years ago, Dean… we agreed to a surrogate…"

Mind flashing. Images. More confusion. Sam blurring.

"S-sam…?" Dean stutters out, shaking his head a little, trying to focus.

"Dean," Sam says, taking Dean's hand, "Dean! Hey, stay with me…"

The world blurring around him.

_Stay with me._

Memories. Weakness. Pain.

_Stay with me, Dean._

Fading to darkness. Everything coming back. Sirens. Pain.

_SAMMY!_

"S… Sam-…"

Sam looks up from the edge of the bed.

"Dean…"


	6. Chapter 6: Consciousness

**Consciousness**

"S-… Sam…"

Sam looks up from the edge of the bed where he's been resting his head, all the fight out of him.

He's been there for three day's now, waiting for answers, stopping doctors in the hallways, the coffee machine in the cafeteria is now his best friend, other than Nurse Annie, Ann, and Dr Raj, the neurosurgeon.

"Dean…?" Sam says timidly, thinking he imagined it, but slowly, Dean's eyes open a little, and Dean's mouth quivers a little, through the drug's effects.

"Sa-…mmy…" he tries again, words slurred.

Dean has been in a medically induced coma for the last three days, while doctors ran tests on his brain. Sam had protested, but the doctors had told him that Dean would be in too much pain to be able to do much, so reluctantly, Sam bowed to their advice.

Sam got up from the chair and took Dean's hand in his, using his free hand to stroke Dean's hair. "Hey, Dean," he said softly, "how you feeling?"

Dean tried to speak, but his throat was so dry that he coughed out instead. Sam let go of Dean's hand and poured him a glass of water and popped in a straw. He pushed one of the buttons on the side of the bed, putting the upper part up and once it was up enough, he put the glass of water close to Dean's cracked lips.

"Here," he said, "And this time, slow?"

Dean looked at the water, still a little sleepy, but took the straw into his mouth and sucked down some water. It hurt at first, his dry throat being relieved after so many days, but after a few seconds, it felt wonderful to have the cool liquid going down him.

After the drink, Sam put the glass down and took Dean's hand in his again and Dean managed to squeeze back a little, trying to reassure Sam, earning a smile from him.

"How're you feeling, Dean?" Sam asked again.

Dean looked at Sam, and replied honestly, "Like… crap, Sam. Why?"

Sam deliberated for a minute then stroked Dean's hair again, "How's your head?"

Dean leaned up into the touch a little, closing his eyes and relishing the touch. "It's a little heavy," he said and opened his eyes and looked at Sam with a level gaze, "How bad?"

"How bad is what?"

"Sam…"

"Really, I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sammy. Tell me."

Sam let out a stuttered gasp and tears broke the surface of his eyes.

"D-Dean…" Sam said, lowering his head onto Dean's chest, scrunching up the front of Dean's hospital gown and sobbing into it. Dean tried to hug Sam, but there was an IV stuck into his right arm, so he ended up with is left hand on Sam's shoulder, slowly stroking it and whispering sweet nothing's to Sam, telling him everything was okay, that he was fine.

The door opened and a doctor and nurse entered the room and was surprised at what they saw. The doctor went over to the side of Dean's bed that was free and the nurse put her hands on Sam's shoulder's gently trying to pry him off Dean, but Sam was adamant and Dean smiled at her apologetically, but she shook her head.

"Dean," the doctor said, "It's good to see you awake."

Slowly Sam got up from Dean's chest and sat back down, trying to hide his face from view. The nurse handed Sam a tissue and patted him on the shoulder and turned to Dean.

"Sam here has been sitting on that chair from dawn till dusk," she said and Dean felt a pang of guilt and looked at Sam and he looked up at Dean and offered a small smile.

The doctor checked Dean's pulse and pressure and wrote some things on a clipboard and satisfied, he looked at Dean and smiled at him.

"My name is Dr. Raj, but, as Sam will tell you, I prefer it if you would call me Dave, and this," he gestured to the nurse, "is Nurse Annie, or as the others call her, 'mother-hen'."

Nurse Annie laughed at that and looked at Dean, "You can call me Ann," she said.

Dean smiled at them, "Nice to meet y'all," he said and looked over at Sam sitting in the chair. Having calmed down, Sam looked tired, dark circles under his eyes, hair a little messy and he was unshaved. As much as Dean dug Sam's shaggy look, he was saddened at the state of his brother.

He extended his hand to Sam and Sam reached out and held his hand and smiled at Dean, but Dean looked back at the doctor.

"Doc, you gotta tell me what's wrong."

Dark looks exchanged.

_Oh, crap_, Dean thought.


	7. Chapter 7: Swallowing Pride

**Swallowing Pride**

"Dean, you must try to understand the position that this situation puts us in," Dr Raj said keeping a level gaze with the young man on the bed.

"Dean…?" Sam said, putting a timid hand on Dean's, but the call fell on silent ears.

Dean just stared ahead. He couldn't understand this.

_Brain tumor. Surgery. Rehabilitation. Side effects. _

All he could think was, _oh god, oh god, Sam, oh god, Sammy… wake me up, get me out of this. Sam please._

"Tell… me you're joking," Dean said quietly and looked at the doctor with pleading eyes, but the doctor shook his head and looked down.

"I'm sorry, Dean, but I wish I were."

Dean turned to Nurse Annie, but all he got was a sympathetic smile from her. Then his eyes fell on Sam and Dean's heart broke a little more.

Sam was defeated. Completely exhausted. But Sam offered a hand to Dean, which he accepted quietly and glanced back at the doctor.

"What's my chances like, doc?" he asked.

Dr Raj thought for a minute before answering. "Dean, we had better discuss options such as radiation therapy; an alternate to surgery."

"But there's no guarantee that it'll work, right?" Dean said and the doctor's lips tightened a little, but he didn't answer, "So tell me what are my chances like if I let you crack my grapefruit open then."

The doctor sighed and pursed his lips a little, "40 percent chance you come out totally fine. Now that's not a big margin, Dean, understand that."

"Oh, I get you loud and clear, doc, now would you mind giving Sam and I some privacy?" Dean said with a tone that no one argued with.

Dr Raj walked out first, but not before giving them a nod and smile. Nurse Annie inclined her head to Sam before turning to Dean and smiling, "I'll have your dinner brought up in an hour or two, sweetie."

Dean thanked her and she left, closing the door behind her with a soft click.

Instantly he sighed and looked up at Sam, flashing a grin, "Well, that was a whole episode of Grey's Anatomy."

Despite himself, Sam laughed; he looked at Dean and burst out laughing.

Everything just seemed so funny to Sam right now. – Dean's vomiting, Dean collapsing, the ambulance and medication. Sam waiting days, the pacing, the twenty cups of coffee a day…

Sam laughed until he was crying, holding onto Dean's hand with the both of his. He had slumped back into the chair and had buried his head in the mattress, but he never let go of Dean.

Dean lay there, unable to move much, unable to soothe Sam, unable to say anything to make it better.

Sarcasm and smiles may work most of the time, but this was something that no amount of mouth could fix.

So he lay there, looking down at Sam and cursing every force out there. He cursed them for having to make Sam go through this.

After a while, Sam looked up and sniffed, the faint tear tracks already drying and he looked at Dean.

"Sorry."

"S'kay, Sammy," Dean said, offering Sam a smile.

Sam smiled back a little, but the shadows under Sam's eyes betrayed every good emotion.

"We have to talk, Dean," Sam said, looking at Dean with a face that only meant one thing: loss.

Dean nodded.

"I know, Sammy."


	8. Chapter 8: Anaesthesia

**Anaesthesia **

"You're sure about this?" Dr Raj asked, brows furrowing and lips thinning.

The boys nodded and Sam put his hands into his pockets, his boots suddenly becoming interesting.

"It's my decision, doc," Dean said quietly, "And as much as I would love you to just wave a hand and make it go away, this is what's gonna happen."

"I understand," Dr Raj said, then looked at Sam, "You're okay with this, Sam?"

Sam just nodded then glanced up at the doctor. "Y-yeah," he said with a shaky voice, "We agreed."

"Okay, then you're going to have to fill in some paperwork, Sam," the doctor said, walking to the door and beckoning Sam to follow. Sam turned and smiled at Dean and Dean smiled back at Sam as he watched his brother walking out the door.

When he was alone, he looked up at the ceiling and his fingers twitched a little. He never thought something like this would be the end of him.

_No, no what the hell. Stop thinking like that._

He sighed and ran a hand over his face, letting his hand linger on his eyes. When he took his hand away, it was moist and there were slow tears trailing their way down his face.

Dean heard the door open and quickly wiped the tears away and swallowed.

"Hello Dean," Nurse Ann said and put down the tray of food Dean guessed was his. She went over to him and sat by the edge of the bed, taking out a tissue paper and handing it to him. "I heard about your decision," she said, smiling a sad smile. Dean just nodded.

"You're a brave boy, Dean, but do you understand the consequences to yourself… to Sam?" she asked.

Dean licked his lips and looked at her with glassy eyes, "Tell me again."

She sighed and took his hand, which he let her. "IF all goes well, then you will have to go through some physiotherapy and live with a strict diet for a few weeks. That's if all goes well," she looked away then, "If there are complications and only part of the tumor comes out, then you will have to go through radiation therapy to kill off the rest of it. You may lose the ability to express certain emotions and you may find it a little hard to work with your hands for a while. However, each person is different, you may not experience many of them."

Dean let out a ragged sigh that sounded more like a whimper. Nurse Ann looked back at the man and her heart filled with emotion when she heard his next request.

"Nurse, can I… have some paper and a pen? I uh, …wanna write Sam a letter."

She got up and went back to the nurse's station and got him what he wanted. When she returned and had given him the paper, he asked for some alone time which she gave him. she told him Sam would be about an hour, so he had plenty of time to write.

Three days later, Dean was prepped for surgery and was waiting to be rolled into the operation room. Part of his hair had been shaved away and he had joked to Sam that they should shave a Mohawk.

Sam had smiled at him, but his lips had quivered always fighting the flood of tears.

When the doctors came, it was like Death himself came through the door. Through Dean's bravado, he clutched Sam's hand tighter when he saw them coming. He had looked up at Sam his breathing hitched a little.

Sam's heart broke but he held on to Dean's hand tighter and he told him that everything was going to be fine.

"Besides, a jerk like you has to pull through," Sam said shakily, "Who else is gonna beat my ass around."

"You're such a little bitch," Dean said and they shared a kiss. Sam tried to convey strength and resilience to Dean through the kiss and Dean tried to tell Sam that he loved him with everything he was.

When the doctors told Sam it was time to go, he just wanted to throw himself around Dean and beg him not to leave him, but he just nodded and followed them as far as they would let him, never letting go of Dean.

Finally they had to part, but Dean asked them to stop. Nurse Ann was with him and he asked her to lean forward and he whispered something to her. She nodded and smiled encouragingly at him.

Dean looked back at Sam, eyes full of fear and uncertainty, but he smiled at Sam. "Love you, bitch."

"I love you too, jerk," Sam said, managing to laugh once.

As they rolled the gurney in, the strength in Sam's knees gave out and he crumpled to the floor, kneeling down in the middle of the walkway. Nurse Ann who had been standing next to him knelt down and hugged Sam as the flood of tears finally came.

In the operating theatre, under the bright lights, Dean was slowly going under. The world was becoming blurry and his hands were slackening.

"Sammy… I l-…love…"


	9. Chapter 9: Starry, Starry Night

**Starry, Starry Night**

There were only a few times that Sam really was really worried about Dean. he would pace constantly, become irritable and in the worst case, he would drink.

This was one time he did all of the above.

Nurse Ann had told him to go back home for a while, but that wasn't even an option. Home was the worst possible place that he could be right now. So instead of that, he ended up in the cafeteria at the table that had become his second haunt.

Drinking his seventh cup of coffee spiked with alcohol, Sam fingered the rim of the cup, leg bobbing up and down, lips a thin line. Every now and again, a doctor would come into the room and at every sight of a white coat, he would become hopeful, but his heart clenched.

Finally he gave up on waiting and went to the nurses' station. He saw Nurse Ann doing some paperwork and went to stand at the counter. "I can't wait anymore Ann," he said, running a hand through his hair and she put down her file before standing up and smiling at him. "C'mon," she said and grabbed her coat from a closet.

Outside, the cold night air causing their breaths to fog up. Nurse Ann walked, arm in arm with Sam through the hospital garden. Sam had a resigned posture about him, looking down most of the time, face scrunched up.

They reached a bench hidden away from the view of the hospital, facing a beautiful fountain and they sat down.

Silence.

"Sam," Nurse Ann said quietly, breaking the hush, "look up at the stars."

Sam was a little surprised at the request, but he looked up. Away from the lights of the hospital, the stars shone happily and his eyes filled with a thin layer of liquid. Dean and him had done this many times, even made love under them a few times and now, all those memories played through his head. She felt him break a little and patted his arm.

"Whatever happens here, on Earth, the stars still remain the same," she said and turned to him, put a hand on his cheek and made him turn to her, "whatever may happen, Sam, Dean will still remain the same person. Still the same, Sam."

That was it, Sam broke down. He curled up and laid his head on Nurse Ann's shoulder, hugging her and sobbing. She held him and let him let it all out. She shed a tear or two for him; for this whole situation. She glanced up at the sky and sent up a silent prayer for them, telling God to help them through this.

After a while, Sam calmed down and lifted his head a little. He was a mess, broken, emotionally and mentally. It broker Nurse Ann's heart, but she smiled at him and handed him a tissue which he accepted gratefully.

"I… c-can't… don't know h-how to… do this," Sam said, looking down at his hands.

"You don't know how right now," she said, "But you will be able to handle this, Sam. Your brother will be fine."

Sam stopped and looked up at her. He hadn't said anything about Dean being his brother.

"Wh-," he began, but Nurse Ann stopped him. "I know family when I see it," she said simply then put her hand over his. "I don't judge, Sam. In my opinion, the love that the both of you share surpasses anything; that it can overcome anything."

Sam didn't know how to react to this, but slowly, he slumped down onto the grass, and laid his head back on the cool marble stone of the bench, looking up. Nurse Ann joined him on the ground and held his hand.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, looking at the stars and just enjoying each other's company. Dean still went through Sam's mind, but he knew that he could handle it a little better now.

"Will… Could you help me, Ann? Once he's at home?" Sam asked softly and Nurse Ann felt her heart swell a little with love for the young man. "Of course, Sam. As best as I can," she said and squeezed his hand.

"Thank you," Sam whispered, thinking how he could ever repay this angel.

After a while, they heard the soft crunching of grass and looked up for the source of it. Doctor Raj was coming towards them, looking tired. Sam jumped up and Nurse Ann stood up, brushing off the stray grass from her uniform.

"Doctor…" Sam said, hardly daring to breathe, "D-Dean…?"

Doctor Raj sighed and looked at Sam with a smile on his face, "He's fine."


End file.
